One thing we've found to be true on this particular mission field is that ministry happens in spurts. Of course, the counterpart to the "spurt" is the "lull." Or at least that's what it feels like to me. Sometimes weeks can go by without what we would call a "significant" event. Look at the last post: "Itapiranga" happened a month ago. But my mind was 'messed with' today after I read the words that a friend of Dominique's (and short-term missionary to Africa) wrote on her blog, from a book called "Ministering Cross-culturally":

"We must consciously release our attachments to home, income security, convenience, significance in work or ministry, and even comfort of family."

The one that really got me there is "significance in work or ministry." Is that true? I don't want to give that up. I like feeling 'important' and 'necessary' and 'effective.' And I feel like I owe it to our supporters, too, to be doing 'significant' things for God. But then I consider the life of, say, the prophet Jeremiah . . . and I think the 'significance' statement above rings true. Jeremiah never saw anyone respond favorably to his message. If he had to write home to his supporters, they might cut him off because no visible fruit seemed to be coming from his ministry. I bet the missions agency that sent him would be doing some serious evaluation and likely questioning his call. In fact, his greatest harvest was the buckets of tears that likely fell from his eyes in lament because no one would listen to God's message. . . .enough that Jeremiah is even known as "the weeping prophet." And yet, he was no less called, no less qualified than we who are modern day missionaries, toiling away at the thing we've been called to. Someone has said "we are called to be FAITHFUL, not effective." Where I would disagree a little with that statement, I also see the merit in it. My ultimate significance need not come from the results of my labor, but from the One who has called me to love Him deeply. Oh the discontent of living for results! He tells me that there is significance even in the lulls. Even in the various conversations with Brazilian friends who stop by our house, in the English lessons we're giving to a couple of teens, in Dominique helping the girls straighten their hair, the more frequent family times to the park or 'movie night' we have because the planning load has lightened, or a game of Ultimate Frisbee with some Brazilian youth and our field director's family. In these times I sense God whispering to be grateful for these perceived 'lulls' because they are the stuff of restoration . . . and where I feel like it's 'dead-time', it's very much 'alive' to Him, and rife with His opportunity.

A workteam arrived early Thursday morning from Illinois and by Friday morning were heading to the interior for a weekend of serving. The night began with the Jesus film. Some beautiful young children were present and quickly took to the team (who afterall was giving them all the candy they could ask for!). We had planned on having youth events on Saturday and Sunday, but after surveying our group, we stuck with some more VBS type ideas seeing as how many of them were children and then the parents of those children. Saturday night there was a joint service...the Brazilians sang and asked the Americans to sing, too. It felt so unified, though so much differences. The team cried as we left on Sunday morning. It was hard for them to understand how these people could have so little and yet be so happy. They were just always smiling. We have a fondness for these people...in fact, our friend Doglas is from this community.

“Mais Que Vencedores" (see conference logo) means “More Than Conquerors” and was our theme that we built on using the concept of the Olympics, since they are right around the corner. They would hear about Entering the Race of your life (God’s call to participate in a New Race & His desire to be our Coach!), Enduring the Race (What do you do when the going gets tough? How will you make sure you’ll make it to that finish line?), and Ending the Race (looking at the world’s way of “winning” versus Jesus’ way of “winning”).

The Torch
One of the last things we did that night was to have a torch ceremony similar to the Olympic torch relay. However, whereas the torch ceremony usually commences the Games, we were led to do this at the end of our conference. We felt that the Lord would want to show the people of Itapeacu that the Fire of His Presence, Passion, and Holiness was not meant to go out . . . but to be passed through the community and reside in His Church. And so we began a torch relay of our own that both ended the conference AND symbolized a true commencement of a new work God is doing in Itapeacu. Even though the conference was ending, their responsibility to take the Light of Christ to their community had just begun. The torch began at our meeting place and was passed from person to person through the street until it reached the Wesleyan Church atop the hill, where their youth pastor lit off the larger cauldron fire, representing His dwelling with His Church. Their pastor prayed and a great group of Itapeacu’ans and our team of 50 worshiped Jesus, the Resurrected One who was ‘conquered’ so that He may conquer sin and even death to win us the greatest victory of all.

We spent the day at the waterfalls with a work team of 23 from Virginia and the Brazilian Pastor's kids. The kids had a great time sliding down the rocks and sinking in mud. There is such a wonderful new energy that the work team brings...it is wonderful to have them here. The pastor's kids love the special attention and the opportunity to be around the team, too.

United States has long been considered the melting pot. . . more like the “Salad Bowl” observes one author, because so many cultures find themselves mixed together in our free and diverse country, yet retain their cultural distinctives. Brazil is interesting to me for the same reason. In one place, you may find people who look black, white, Asian, European . . . and they will all be Portuguese-speaking Brazilians. The other day I witnessed in a poignant way the interesting culture collision here. I had the opportunity to attend a worship service at a Chinese Presbyterian Church with Tom (our field director) and family, as he was preaching there that morning. I was asked to say a few words of testimony because I had been to China for a month on a short-term mission trip in 2000. Behind me, there were two other bodies on the platform: Tom (a Portuguese speaking American), and a Chinese-born Brazilian woman named Alice who spoke some English, Portuguese, and Chinese. As I told one of the more memorable God-tales from that trip (in ENGLISH), Tom would often translate it for the Chinese-Brazilian woman in PORTUGUESE and then she would spit it out for the congregation in CHINESE. I thought, “Lord, this would be much easier if you would just give me the gift of tongues.”

Incidentally, every church should follow this church’s model of having a meal after the morning worship . . . with Chinese food . . . sheer genius.

See all these people? They’re all walking. In one direction. Through the city. Halting at nearly every stop-light. For three hours together. See that truck? It’s basically like one gigantic speaker that pumps out music at deafening decibel levels in all directions. People wave flags. Teens paint their hair assorted colors. The crowd dances and jumps to the pulsating beat from the many speaker-trucks. There are clowns throwing T-shirts at people. There are the “#1” Fingers like people wave at sporting events. “What’s all this for?” you ask? The masses all come out for Jesus Day, where the big event is the March for Jesus. Denominations melt into one current of Christianity that flows through the city, curb to curb. The March ends at the Stadium where the music continues, this time led by worship leaders on one centrally located stage.
A few of us Americans and our Brazilian friends had the opportunity to go for a bit. But only for a bit. We actually lasted about three blocks when we were forced to exit the river because Zoë and Johnathon wouldn’t stop crying. They apparently did not appreciate the close proximity of thousands of other people, the noise of cheers and thumping music, and the heat and fumes from the trucks . . . nor the clowns. I told Johnathon that he’d probably appreciate it a lot more in about 13 years. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. There are the inherently cool things of the demonstration of a mass of people all moving for a single cause, of seeing so many Jesus-loving people gathered together, of good clean fun and celebration. But I was a little unsure of the merit of the whole thing. What is its value? What do you think? What good is a “March for Jesus”?